


and if the seas should part

by tidewrites



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Lowercase, Nautical AU, Not A Happy Ending, POV Third Person, Pining, haru is a Dumb Fool, reader is a hungry ocean spirit yikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tidewrites/pseuds/tidewrites
Summary: haruka has always loved the sea.(if only she could love him back.)





	and if the seas should part

**Author's Note:**

> _the ocean moans over dead men’s bones.  
>  -thomas bailey aldrich_
> 
> -
> 
> songbank: WHEN I WAS OLDER - billie eilish

it starts on the beach. 

haru is only four years old when his mother crashes into the waves behind him, sobbing incoherently as she grasps at his ankles. his clothes are soaking and he can feel the cold creep under his skin until he feels like it’s in his bones but he only wants to move closer, go deeper. his mother is pulling at him and he can’t move any further but something inside of him aches, some ancient call he doesn’t know he’s too young to hear.

“not my son,” his mother wails, pulling and pulling and  _ pulling  _ until haru finally gives and the trance breaks and he’s back in her arms. “don’t you  _ dare _ take him, too.”

he doesn’t know what she means, doesn’t know why

she’s crying or why she followed him in her heavy dress or why he only wants to go back, but he knows that this is wrong, that something is wrong. 

some of the village men are wading after them now and he is ripped out of his mother’s arms and everything is frantic, then. he is jostled with every step the man carrying him takes and he can hardly hear the shouting of his mother’s voice over the breaking of the waves but before he can focus on it he is in a hut and there is a fire and everything slips into a fuzzy, comfortable haze.

he doesn’t know what’s happening anymore, only that he wants to go back, but he is warm and he is tired and sleep tugs at him before he can stop it. he doesn’t feel the way his mother cradles him or the weight of the blanket that is draped on top of them. he still smells of water and his clothes cling to him but he is so comfortable, now.

(when slumber takes him, he dreams of waves beating against the shore, of a breeze, warm and smelling of salt and something sweet. he dreams of the water.

it is the first time.

it will not be the last.)

* * *

“you shouldn’t go near the ocean,” makoto mumbles, tugging at haru’s wrist nervously. “my mummy says it isn’t safe there.”

haru is eight years old now, full of life and curiosity. but he is a quiet child. he doesn’t cause trouble and he listens to his mother when she calls him in for dinner and he doesn’t argue when she tells him never, under any circumstance, to go near the sea.

(haru is not troublesome. he listens to his mother and he doesn’t talk back, but he loves more than anything to go to the water, to feel the breeze and taste the salt on his lips. he loves his mummy but he will  _ never  _ tell her that he sneaks away under the cover of darkness, that he sits at the edge of the docks and gazes and wonders and wishes that the sea would sweep him away too.)

(he does not tell makoto either. it is his secret, and his secret alone.)

“it’s fine,” haru says, quiet. “we’ll be okay.”

“haru, you know the stories,” makoto whimpers, almost sounding scared enough to make haru pause.

(and haru  _ does _ know the stories. he knows that the water is a forbidden place, knows that there is something old that lurks there, something ancient and powerful and vengeful. he thinks about the way the elders whisper to each other, names he’s never heard before, prayers that go unanswered because the gods had long forsaken his village.)

“it’s fine,” he reiterates, growing frustrated.

“haru, please,” makoto whispers, planting his heels into the ground with enough force that they both stop. “i’m afraid.”

he knows, rationally, that makoto has every right to be afraid. he knows that all of the village children fear the water but he thinks it’s because they don’t understand it, not the way he does. but haru  _ knows _ , so he snaps his mouth shut and lets go of makoto’s wrist, and he only hesitates a moment before he turns and pushes past him.

(“i’m sorry,” makoto whispers, when they’re finally halfway to the village.)

(haru says nothing, but he says it very loudly.) 

* * *

 

(this time, he dreams he feels the water at his feet. 

it is warm and it is almost real. he can feel the breeze pushing at his back, urging him to go deeper, to dive and keep diving.

there is a song, too, but he can’t understand the words, not yet.

he hopes that one day he will.)

* * *

“that book is stupid,” rin murmurs, gazing listlessly out of the window.

haru doesn’t respond, but he does focus on the way makoto sighs, tearing his gaze away from the weathered pages only for a moment.

“rin, be nice,” makoto scolds, gently. they are fourteen now, and for the most part, things haven’t changed. haruka is still quiet and he still yearns desperately for the sea, and makoto still worries and he’s still so nervous.

the only thing that has changed, it seems, is the addition of rin to their little group. he is loud and impulsive and he yells at haru for dumb things, but somehow they still mesh, the three of them, different as they are.

it helps that rin isn’t afraid of the water, not like everyone else.

(they are eleven, the first time they meet. rin is new to the village and haru finds him on that first night, staring at the edge of the sea with that same listless gaze.

“you shouldn’t be here,” haru tells him.

rin hardly spares a glance over his shoulder. haru knows that they are the same age but there is something about this new boy that makes him seem so much older than him.

“do you believe the stories?” he asks, in lieu of a real response.

haru doesn’t answer. he finds himself standing next to the strange boy with blazing crimson hair and they both stare past the horizon. something feels different, then, different then when haru is alone with his ocean.

he doesn’t know how that makes him feel.)

“you know those stories are made up to keep little kids from drowning,” rin states, sort of bitterly. “i don’t know why you read those when you know they’re not true.”

“rin,” makoto scolds, a little less gently.

“it’s true,” rin defends, scoffing as he turns away from the two. “there’s no such thing as those kinds of spirits, makoto. you’re old enough to know this by now.”

“i don’t think they’re stupid,” haruka says, slow and quiet. “the stories, i mean.”

both rin and makoto look at him a little strangely, then, but he’s not paying attention. the old book is worn in his hands, well-read and softened from years of use, from his fingers mapping the spine and tracing over the words he’s long since memorized.

“c’mon, haru,” rin huffs, letting out a strange, nervous laugh. “if they’re real, how come we’re still alive? how many times have we gone down to the docks?”

makoto nearly chokes, but haru is too busy glaring at rin to really care. he can feel how sharp his gaze is and he wishes, not for the first time, that rin would keep his big mouth closed, if only for a little while.

“you’ve been to the docks?!”

makoto is sputtering, but he looks more afraid than haru thinks he’s ever seen him.

“yes,” haru answers, with barely any hesitation. “i don’t think it’s such a big deal.”

“yeah,” rin agrees, guarded. “they’re just stories.”

makoto hardly looks convinced, but he doesn’t really say anything else. there is a strange look on his face, caught between pity and sorrow. rin won’t look away from the window, and haru finds himself mindlessly pulling at the strings of the old book.

he doesn’t know it yet, but that is the beginning of the end.

* * *

the stories speak of a strange presence that lives in the waters of haru’s village.

she is old as the dawn, the water spirit who inhabits his ocean. she is supposedly cold and beautiful and harsh, and she demands tribute be paid to her waters no matter what.

(some say she lures hapless fools in, that she sings a song that floats on seabreezes and brings the taste of salt and honey and comfort. most say she kills them, that she drowns them and takes their souls for sport.)

haru doesn’t like to think she’s that cruel, his ocean.

(he doesn’t quite know when  _ his ocean _ becomes a  _ she.) _

* * *

 

this one is easy. 

he comes to the docks every night, even on the nights that haruka resists her pull. there is a melancholy way about him, something quiet and sad in the way he sits and stares. she knows he knows she’s there, watching him every night, but he doesn’t do anything about it, doesn’t run in fear the way most humans do.

she also knows he hears her song, the one she sings just for the boy who lives at the edge of the village, and part of her wonders why he comes to her waters regardless of whether or not it is not for his ears. she lets him listen anyway and he spends years with her before she finally takes him.

“you’re not afraid,” she states, on that final night.

“no,” he says, stoic, eyes trained on the way the water ripples around her hips. “not of you.”

she smiles, and she basks in the feeling of her arms wrapping around his neck, tugging him closer.

“you should be,” she whispers, right into his ear.

he doesn’t struggle. it’s an easy score, this one, this strange boy with hair as red as blood. he doesn’t fight her as she drags him under the water, doesn’t even cry out when she closes her fingers around his neck and pull him into the frigid depths.

he is not right, but his fear is enough, for now. 

 

* * *

 

this dream is not so pleasant. 

the water suffocates him, pulling him deeper and deeper, choking and consuming. something claws at his neck, frigid and sharp and constricting. he is pale and he is cold and he wants, for the first time, to be back on the sand, to be far from the unforgiving tides and whatever drags him deeper.

when he finally wakes up, it is with a gasp.

but dreams are fickle things, and this one, he finds, is fleeting. before long sleep carries him and the panic dies until there is nothing but soft, careful silence.

it will not be long now.

(somewhere, the sea is mourning for the newly dead.)

* * *

 

it is the dawn of his twentieth birthday when he meets her for the first time.

at first, he thinks her just a girl stupid enough to go for a swim when there was hardly any light in the middle of a raging storm. but he doesn’t hesitate when he dives into the frigid waters, ignoring the way the waves thrash him about, too focused on getting to her on time. he doesn’t know what drives him, not yet, but whatever it is  _ almost _ overpowers the euphoria he feels from finally  _ finally _ feeling the water at his back, tasting the salt, his ocean’s tears.

when he reaches her, thunder crashing in the sky above her, he finds that shes perfectly fine. in fact, he finds that she’s more than fine, that she floats perfectly despite the way the waves rage around her. something about her immediately sets him off, but he grabs her around her waist anyway and hoists her along to the little cove that waits closer to them than the docks.

the trip is strangely silent, and haruka feels a strange buzzing under his skin, now that shes holding onto his neck as he swims. shes so calm and it unnerves him. she should be gasping and choking and crying because the water is harsh and cold and unforgiving but she’s just so  _ calm _ and if anything, haruka might be a little freaked out.

when they reach the safety of the cove, he takes a moment to catch his breath, letting her down in the shallow waters as he gasps and pants and coughs up the water he ended up swallowing.

“that was stupid,” he manages, still doubled over. “you know the water is off limits.”

her giggle is a sound he’s sure he’s never heard before. it’s melodic and soothing and something about it is so unnatural that almost immediately he turns to really look at her, and then his heart jumps into his throat.

“silly little sailor,” she murmurs, tilting her head as he stares in awe. “these waters are never off-limits, for i cannot drown.”

she is more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen, he thinks, in the startling moment that it takes him to recognize her for what she is. her skin glows under the pale light the dawn casts, and almost immediately haru finds himself drawn into her. there is something distinctly not human about her, something that tugs at his consciousness, a small voice that tells him he’s in danger, but he knows he will not listen.

“i’ve been waiting for you,” she tells him, the corner of her lips lifting into a coy smile. “my songs were just for you, haruka. tell me, did you hear them?”

he feels his breath catch. he thinks about the strange pull he’s felt for almost all of his life, that strange call that urged him to leave everything for the water. he thinks about his mother, thinks about the way she soured every time he mentioned the ocean, thinks about the stories, the way his village always feared the sea. he even thinks about rin, thinks about how he disappeared last year and how his family wept curses at the spirits for taking their son from them. it all makes sense, now, but haruka isn’t scared, not the way he should be, at least.

“always,” he whispers, in that slow way he talks.

she smiles, and it’s sweet and sticky and something tugs at his chest then, when she moves closer. the dress she wears,  black as night, clings to her body with every move she makes, and haruka knows in that instant that he is hers, that he has always been hers, regardless of anything.

she reaches for him, and he reaches back, hands meeting in the cold light of a new dawn. thunder crashes, and something shifts, then, the air crackling with a new kind of tension that pulls at haru’s ears until he’s leaning into the way she tugs at him, completely and utterly entranced.

“yes,” she breathes, tilting herface up as his hands find her waist. “this will do.”

* * *

she moves like water.

perhaps that’s why he’s so taken with her. her body is fluid and pliant under his hands, and it kind of feels like she could drown him with just one breath. there is a strange wetness behind her eyes, too, and haru doesn’t know what it means yet but he wants and he wants and he wants.

when she kisses him, she tastes like the salt of the sea and the warm breeze that rides in with the tides and haru is completely under her spell, now. when she crashes against him like the waves beating against the shore, everything fades into a warm, pleasant hum.

_ yes,  _ he thinks, with her body soft and yielding under the pressure of his fingers.  _ this will do, indeed. _

* * *

 

their meetings become frequent, after that.

haru can feel himself withdrawing from his life on the land, but he finds he doesn’t care, not when shes waiting for him at the end of everyday. he knows people wonder, now, for his sanity, for his soul, knows that his mother crawls into bed every night and sobs because her son is all but lost to her, now.

makoto still comes and sits with him, but things have been different since rin and now there is a new tension that widens the gap between them, that separates them further. everything is so different, now, but haru only longs for her touch, for the safety of the water she promises him. he cares not for the village’s problems, their fears, their dumb superstitions.

so he spends his days staring towards the sea and he spends his nights sneaking away to that little cove where he first met her and it becomes a routine, this new life he’s building.

slowly, his ocean, her, suddenly it all takes over his life until she isnall he thinks about, all he dreams of. whatever this is, he knows it’s not right, but he finds he doesn’t care, not anymore.

(not long, now.)

* * *

“aren’t you afraid?”

rin is staring at him, lips pulled taut, brows furrowed. he looks sad, in that strange way he always did, but he also looks stressed, like there’s something heavy weighing on him. haru can only meet his gaze for a moment before he’s turning back to the horizon.

“no,” he answers, truthfully.

rin chuckles, and it’s a bitter, sour sound. haru turns back to him and his eyes are cold now, cruel and listless and angry. his skin is pale too, sunken, and suddenly he looks more like a corpse than the friend haru remembers.

“you should be,” he spits, biting. “she doesn’t know love, not the way you want her to.”

it’s a strange feeling that pools in haru’s gut, anxiety, maybe, fear? whatever it is pulls him straight out of the strange dream and he wakes up gasping, choking on his own breath as light from the moon filters through his window.

he doesn’t fall back to sleep, that night.

* * *

“tell me a secret, sailor.”

he can’t stop looking at her, at the way her wet skin glistens under the moonlight, the way her hair sticks to her shoulders. he wonders, for a brief moment, how something could be so beautiful, how something like her could even exist outside of anything but his dreams.

(he knows that she is not made of earth like him, knows that she is otherworldly and made of salt and seafoam and storms and sky, but still he wonders. he wants to tell her, he realizes, wants her to know how breathtaking she is; how captivating, hypnotic.)

“i’m not a sailor,” he murmurs instead, swallowing.

her laugh is low and breathy and he can feel the heat pool low in his belly, something foreign and exciting and terrifying all at once.

“but you like the sea,” she observes, wading closer. “you are so different, haruka.”

something in her voice turns predatory, then, shifting from the sweet tone she had used earlier, and he feels some primal urge to run away, to get as far from her as he can. but something keeps him where he stands, eyes fixed on the way she licks her lips as she slowly crowds into his space.

“you made this so easy for me,” she whispers, when she’s finally pressed close enough to kiss him.

he doesn’t know what she means, and something unsettles him, then.

(when she pulls him in tight, he realizes that maybe the stories were right.)

* * *

it ends where it starts.

the beach is cold, today. the warm breeze he loves so much is gone, and with it goes the sweetness from her touch, the tenderness with which she held him all those long nights. he can feel a strange, vile pressure pushing down on his chest, and he watches as her loving smile vanishes and shifts into something old, something feral and malicious. he can feel the waves lapping at his skin, but he doesn’t want them, not like this.

“you were so good,” she murmurs, tracing a finger down the bridge of his nose. “such a loyal boy.”

he tries to say something, anything, but his voice is trapped in his throat and all he can do is writhe, pushing against the force of her touch and hoping that maybe, just maybe, she’ll spare him because she loves him, too.

“silly little sailor,” she croons, leaning closer. “naïve little boy. don’t you know the ocean isn’t merciful? don’t you know that i cannot love a child of the earth?”

he feels something like agony twist in his gut, then, and he watches as her beautiful features melt into all of the cold and bitterness of the world and he feels as her fingers close around his throat, sharp and constricting, and he chokes on his last breath as she drags him deep into the water.

it is a quick affair, as it should be, but before it happens he is struck with one, fleeting thought.

the ocean is beautiful, but she is also unforgiving and haru learns that she takes more than she gives.

(the sea will not mourn her dead tonight.)

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiiiiiiii take this monster of an au i churned out after procrastinating for two months straight and staring at pictures of the beach lmao. i dont even watch free anymore but i had to get this out, i really did. 
> 
> annnyways feedback is ALWAYS appreciated. :)


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